


Title of Their Sex Tape

by Cibee (Cibeeeee)



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Partners, Banter, Brooklyn Nine-Nine - Freeform, Draco wears a dress, Dramatic Draco Malfoy, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Halloween heist, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Draco, Jealous Harry Potter, LCDrarry, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Harry Potter, Pining Draco Malfoy, Teaming up with people and betraying them, because we all know he'll rock one, no one takes crimes seriously, not even the criminals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23649382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cibeeeee/pseuds/Cibee
Summary: What are the Wizarding world's most elite law enforcers doing when they aren't catching criminals? It seems Auror Malfoy is often caught throwing food into Auror Potter's mouth when he's mid-yawn. This story isn't about Draco throwing food at Harry. What it does have is: Undercover! Heists! Draco pining for Harry! Harry being oblivious, but also can't help noticing how good Draco smells! Banters and jokes! That's about it.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 184
Kudos: 1232
Collections: Lights Camera Drarry 2020





	Title of Their Sex Tape

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt #112: Brooklyn Nine Nine  
> Prompt: I’d love a funny buddy cop styled auror partners fic kind of like Brooklyn Nine Nine! 
> 
> I hope I did the prompt and the original show justice!  
> Hugh thanks to Pineau_noir for the beta!!  
> You can find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/cibeewastaken)
> 
> The wonderful dragontamerdame has drawn [an AMAZING art ](https://dragontamerdame.tumblr.com/post/626804490986782720/only-you-have-that-magic-technique-when-we-sway-i) inspired by this!! go check it out!
> 
> caroll-in also blessed us with another draco [looking happy and beautiful](https://caroll-in.tumblr.com/post/634393263841984512/you-can-meet-this-draco-in-the-fantastic-and-super)❤️❤️❤️

“Hey Jared," Harry said, “What are you in for today?"

“For being too devastatingly handsome," Jared said.

“He's in for pub fights," Draco said absentmindedly. He was tapping his pen on his clipboard. “What time did you arrive at the pub?”

“Hey, Harry, can you give me a cup of tea when you get yours?” Jared ignored Draco, though Harry knew it was not on purpose. “I think I’m still a little drunk.”

“Sure.” Harry patted Jared’s shoulder.

“Potter, leave my perp alone!” Draco said, and snapped his fingers in Jared's face. “Focus, Jared!"

But Jared did not focus, as he was still chatting to Aurors in the office when Harry got back from the kitchen. He placed the mug Jared liked in front of him and the man gave Harry a thumbs up. Harry handed Draco his tea in Draco's personal electrical mug. Draco smiled at him gratefully.

“Keeps the tea hot without the sourness of warming spells." Draco smacked his lips. “Muggles really saved my life as a government employee."

“Your ancestors must be turning in their grave," Harry said, opening up a file.

“I'll be joining them early if I don't finish this petty crime." 

“Fancy,” Jared said at the mug. “Can I try it the next time I’m in?”

Draco smacked the clipboard on his desk. “Give me your damn statement, Jared!" 

When Jared finally made bail and left (high-fiving a few Aurors on his way out), Harry raised the file for Draco to see. 

“Check this out,” Harry said. “Triple murder. All members of The Night Winkers smuggling gang.”

“Ugh, with that kind of name, they deserve to die,” Draco said.

“I know you just closed your potion ring case two days ago. You want to work it with me? ”

“Yes,” Draco snatched the file away. “Anything to stop me from seeing fucking Jared again.”

In all honesty, Robards wanted Harry to work this with someone else and give Draco another potion/drug case since he was the only Auror with a Potions Master degree, but Harry could see that despite having a passion for Potions, if Draco had to look at another dodgy Potions brewer's file he might actually implode and then Harry would have to get another deskmate. 

Not to mention, Harry absolutely _loved_ having Draco as his partner. Even more than Ron, who Harry could only stand if they packed a significant amount of food because Ron could get hangry in under five minutes without food. People thought Auror work was exciting because they didn’t know how much waiting around and watching things were involved before you could start busting in and chasing bad guys. Not to mention the amount of acting an Auror needed for undercover jobs. All through his Muggle schooling, Harry got cast as either the tree or the rock. Once, he was the kid that held the background canvas up so he wouldn’t even be seen on stage.

So if you were unfortunate enough to be stuck with someone boring, you could only pray that the criminals showed up quickly enough just to put you out of the misery. Once Harry had to partner with Smith (somehow both obnoxious and boring at the same time) and when the guy they were looking for showed up Harry actually thanked him as he _Incarcerous_ him.

But Draco, _Draco_ was everything but boring. Draco made sitting in the rain watching an empty house fun. He came up with the most ridiculous and entertaining backstories for their undercover personas that had Harry in stitches every time. And when you had laughed about “Ray Twaterson”’s backstory for twenty minutes, it would take real talent to forget your character. 

They started their triple-murder case by interviewing some witnesses near the victim’s house. Draco flipped through his note. “All right, our first one is Eunice Hayes, and oh—she’s over fifty!” Draco said. “By default she’s got the hots for you. Go on.”

“I do not just attract old women!” Harry protested. 

“You added the ‘just’,” Draco smirked, and knocked on the door.

It turned out, Eunice indeed had the hots for Harry, and they left with pages of her eye-witness account and a basket of mini-muffins coated in fresh hot jams. And if they had to chase their suspect with a basket of mini-muffins dangling from their arms, then it was worth it.

  
  


* * *

“Mini-muffins!” Draco said as they walked into the Auror Department. 

Everyone from Aurors to criminals craned their necks to ogle the little delights, and in mere seconds they were surrounded by their coworkers. “Mate, I love you,” Ron said, after running over from his desk to get his hands on the muffins.

“Also we caught a murderer,” Harry said, patting the suspect.

“Innocent until proven guilty!” the innocent-until-proven-guilty suspect said hotly.

“We’ve all caught murderers before, get in line,” Anthony said. “Poppy seeds!”

Harry rolled his eyes and handed the man to a Junior Auror. “Are you going to take credit for the muffins any longer or do you want to interrogate a suspect with me?” 

Draco huffed. “We only got the muffins because I was right about you and old ladies.”

“Shut up!”

“Thank god for Draco, right?” Lawrence said, coming from nowhere. He smiled widely at Draco.

“I am a blessing,” Draco agreed.

Lawrence took the basket from Draco. “Let me get that for you. You’ve just arrested a criminal, you deserve some rest. How about I make you a cup of tea and some of these muffins?”

Harry narrowed his eyes. He never liked Lawrence very much, just the sight of him made Harry’s fist tingle. But Harry knew why—Lawrence had a habit of derailing Harry and Draco’s work. Always coming over and asking how the case was going, if Draco needed any help, if Draco wanted a break since Lawrence was always free to take him out for a bite, as though Draco, one of their best Aurors, needed help from someone whose talent lay in being as annoying as possible.

“Oh, I was just about to interrogate the suspect with Potter,” Draco said.

“Job first, eh?" Lawrence grinned at Draco.

“We _are_ Aurors,” Harry said tightly. 

Lawrence still didn’t bother to spare Harry a glance as he left. And Harry’s good mood was ruined by annoying prats who wouldn’t leave people to do their jobs.

* * *

  
  


“Well, that was an uneventful murder case,” Draco said.

“Yeah, I can’t believe he confessed after you pulled five different manipulative-psychological mind games with him,” Harry said dryly. 

“Are there any other interesting cases open?” Draco asked. “I need one before Robards gives me another Potions case.”

Harry was just about to flip through his files when Lawrence showed up out of nowhere again, as though summoned by Draco’s words. “I have a case you might be interested in, Draco. I was just about to come and pick your mind.”

Draco looked piqued and Harry glowered at his desk. “What’s the case?”

“White-collar crime with a hint of arson.” Lawrence winked at Draco. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Oh!” Draco’s eyes flashed. He had developed a hobby of putting the rich and powerful into jail since the war, so Harry knew this was right up his alley. “Do tell.”

“Let’s talk in the second-floor break room, shall we?” Lawrence held out a hand as though he was inviting a young maiden out for a walk. “I heard they’ve got new leather sofas there.”

“Shoptalk in the best break room in the Ministry?” Draco sounded delighted.

“The second-floor break room is the lunch staff’s territory,” Harry reminded them with a scowl. “You wanna piss them off? Good luck ever getting anything other than beans in the canteen.”

“I never eat at the canteen,” Lawrence said smoothly. “I only eat French cuisine for lunch; Italian for dinner.”

“And what do you eat for breakfast, a plate of swank made by house-elves?”

“Turkish coffee,” Lawrence said.

Okay, now what? Harry didn’t have insults about coffee, or Turkey. “Why can’t you use your desks, like normal Aurors?” Harry said.

“Cho needed it. She’s in the zone,” Lawrence said. “Anyway, I have a friend on the lunch staff, so I’ve got access.” He turned back to Draco, who was looking at them in bewilderment. “Shall we?”

Draco took Lawrence’s hand. And Harry was still jabbing his pen into his report ten minutes after they left.

* * *

  
  


In the end, Harry’s report got sent back by Robards because apparently ink splatter and holes made by jabbing weren’t applicable. Before redoing his report, Harry decided not to do it and wandered over to Hermione’s office instead. 

She was frazzled and harried, nothing new since she worked in Legal. Normally she was happy to lend an ear, living vicariously through his rants so she wouldn’t be tempted to stab anyone herself.

_But_ as soon as Harry mentioned Lawrence’s name Hermione groaned and downed a large cup of tea like it was a shot, but more impressive than a shot since the tea was burning hot. 

“He just irritates me!” Harry said hotly. “Barging in and showing off how sophisticated he is! For no reason!”

“Sounds like you’re jealous,” Hermione said pointedly.

“I’m not _jealous_ ,” Harry said. “Who in their right mind would care about Lawrence?”

“That’s not what ...” Hermione said, before sighing and gulping down more hot tea. “Nevermind.”

Harry wasn’t jealous of Lawrence. Lawrence was always peppering in how rich and fancy he was in conversations when no one asked. He always wore stupid clothes that were clearly expensive but didn’t suit him at all. He also wore too much cologne. If anything, Lawrence should learn from Draco. Draco dressed incredibly well, and he smelled fresh and warm and masculine (patchouli, Harry had asked). And it always smelled the strongest in the morning, wafting over Harry and waking him up better than any tea or coffee could.

When Harry left Hermione’s office he didn’t feel any better. His feet carried him to the second floor before he could talk himself out of it. But it didn’t matter anyway since he promptly got refused entry into the break room by the lunch lady who Harry thought he was on good terms with. He left in defeat, though not before catching a glimpse of Draco and fucking Lawrence, heads bent close together over a case file. Harry’s mood soured further. 

So he redid his report, and when he went to drop it off at Robards’, Harry lingered and asked, “So Sir, is there any crime involving rich people that need some justice served to them?”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear that.” Robards didn’t look up. “I’ve already assigned you a new case. It’s on your desk. Take your weird talk somewhere else.”

The new case was about a fairy smuggling ring with a rich pureblood clientele. Harry practically sprinted down to the second-floor break room. 

* * *

  
  


Draco agreed to work this one with Harry as well, which Lawrence glared at him for. “I thought you were helping me with this one,” Lawrence said.

“I thought you just wanted my insight?” Draco looked confused. 

Harry grinned at Lawrence and led Draco out of the luxurious second-floor break room and back to their cramped, cozy office where they sat down together, heads bent close over the case file. Harry caught Draco’s warm patchouli scent and decided Lawrence’s expensive cologne could suck it.

* * *

  
  


The next morning Harry went into office with his usual sense of purpose and good mood whenever he got a good case. Draco was already at his desk. 

“There you are,” he scoffed. “If you wanted to be partners on this case you could at least have the decency to show up.”

“I’m right on time, you fucking prat,” Harry argued. 

“If you were any second late I would have solved this case myself already,” Draco said.

“I haven’t got enough caffeine in me yet,” Harry said. He came back with two mugs of tea, having momentarily forgotten he was pretending to be annoyed.

“I think this is going to be pretty standard,” Draco said as he set the file down. “My CI told me that there might be a deal going down at a party on York Street tonight.”

“How did you get that intel already?”

“Told you,” Draco smirked. “You are _very_ late.”

Game plan set, they visited the covert division, which was just a fancy name for the Costume Department, as Harry said. But it was probably Draco’s favorite place in the Ministry, and Hermione thought Harry was joking when he told her that. Until she tagged along to one of their undercover setup/dressup/makeup sessions and saw Draco, quite literally, in his element. 

“If he ever wants to retire from the Auror force he could get a job here,” Hermione had said. “I remember the Dementor costumes now— _Oh my god, had he made them himself_?”

“Please do not give him any ideas,” Harry had hissed, aware that they had lost Draco in the sea of clothes and he could be within ear-shot. “I don’t want him to actually quit.”

Hermione had raised an eyebrow. “And why don’t you want that?”

“What do you mean?” Harry had replied, confused. Hermione had just left right away, groaning. 

Now, Draco was losing himself in what he called “the reason he became an Auror”, picking out clothes and throwing them over Kate from the Costume Department, who was looking peeved that she wasn’t getting a chance to do her job.

Harry hated to be the one that burst Draco’s bubble. “Er,” he said when Draco held up a cloak that seemed to be more glitter than cloak. “I think that’s a bit much.”

“Please do not try and give me fashion advice while you are wearing whatever you are wearing,” Draco said.

Harry looked at his very standard Auror uniform. “I’m wearing the same thing as everyone.”

“And yet, you somehow botched it up anyway.” 

“Woah.” Harry held up his hands. “Hermione told me before that someone in the office thinks I look good in uniform.”

Draco’s face flushed red. “What! That’s a lie!” Draco threw a stack of clothes at Harry. “Stop lollygagging around and start working!” Then he stomped into the fray of clothes and glitter.

Costume Department Kate gave up on Draco and came over to free Harry from the clutches of clothes. In the end, Costume Department Kate gave him a gauzy white shirt and high waisted grey trousers with heel boots. 

“I’m going for a pirate thing,” Kate said. Then she took out a full box of makeup things and Harry pulled back in fear. Kate raised an eyebrow.

“Only mascara,” Harry conceded. 

Kate was just finishing Harry’s makeup when Draco finally emerged from the pile of clothes (Kate had given up and just pointed at the section appropriate for the job), and he looked ... 

“Bloody hell,” Harry breathed.

Draco stretched out his arms and twirled. He had a navy blue swing dress and matching kitten heels on. It was definitely not the most grandiose thing Draco had worn. It was even one of the most simple outfits, but he looked beautiful.

“I like how it puffs up,” Draco said when he stopped.

“You look so good,” Harry said earnestly.

Draco’s cheeks turned red. “Um,” he said. “Um.”

“You’re done,” Kate told Harry. “Malfoy, your turn.”

But Draco didn’t move. He was staring at Harry. 

“Are you wearing false lashes?” Draco asked faintly.

“Er, no?” Harry poked his eyelashes, heavy from the mascara. It felt kind of nice, so he kept brushing his fingertip through it and blinked at Draco.

Draco let out a small sound.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked.

“Yes, I,” Draco said, dropping into the chair. “It’s ... I ... why don’t you go check some of the equipment out first and then we’ll head out right after I’m done?”

“Sure,” Harry said, still not really understanding what that had to do with his eyelashes. He looked at Kate, but she was hitting her forehead repeatedly with her fist and calling someone idiots. Harry was used to people being weird like that around them, so he just left.

The party was in full swing when they arrived. Draco had gone all out where Harry was reserved: eyeliner, glitter, red lipsticks, and all; he blushed and grinned happily when Harry complimented him again before going into the party.

Draco was also very much in his element at the party: talking to various people and getting snippets of information that always get them the intel they want. Harry flanked him, automatically smiled whenever he was introduced (as Billy Bumbleliny, because Draco was funny, and also a dick) but in reality he was skimming the crowd, looking at faces and quietly directing Draco to the people that would most likely give them the best information. It was a dynamic that only worked for the two of them in the whole Auror Department, and Harry was always secretly proud of it when they told the others how quickly they always found what they wanted.

And sure enough, they soon found a woman who told them that there seemed to be a room on the second floor that always eluded her. Everytime she wanted to go toward it she found herself wandering away from it instead. Draco made a joke about cheap American booze and they all laughed while he traded looks with Harry. _Anti-intruders jinx_ , Harry mouthed at Draco. Draco nodded back.

Soon they caught someone going upstairs and followed. The Muggle stumbled around, probably looking for a bathroom, but as soon as they neared a blue door they straightened, face slacked, and walked away from it.

“Bingpot,” Draco whispered. 

“You really don’t know Muggle slang well enough to be using it,” Harry said.

It took a while for them to take down the jinx in place without alarming the fairy smuggling ring. Once it was down, Harry did not pause before opening the door like it was his own room, and was confronted with multiple tied up witches and wizards and a bunch of fairies pointing their weapons at them.

“Huh,” Draco said. “I didn't expect the fairies to be the ones doing the smuggling.” And that was the last sentence said before a swarm of murderous fairies descended upon them.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Their clothes were dirty and ruined when they got back to the department, but they were both grinning. Draco kept asking if Harry saw the duck, roll and hex he did while twenty fairies came after him and Harry laughed, and said for as many times as Draco asked that yes, he did see it, and yes, it was really cool. And they were smiling at each other and it was the best part of working a case with Draco, the thrill of the solve and how they look at each other as though no one else existed— 

“Wow, Draco,” Lawrence said, once again seemingly out of nowhere. Harry was seriously considering putting a fucking bell on him because that way he could steer Draco away from this knob, long before they could smell his stupid cologne. 

“What?” Draco said, blinking at him.

“You look amazing,” Lawrence said.

Draco scoffed. “In a dirty dress?” 

“You still look good.” Lawrence’s eyes were practically falling out with how intensely he was looking at Draco. Harry wanted to punch the stupidly dazed expression off his face because if Lawrence tried to interrupt his and Draco’s case again, at least he could do it with some dignity. The nut job was even leaning back on a desk to show off his long legs. Harry glared bitterly at them and once again cursed the Dursleys for curbing his growth. But no matter, Harry could lean on stuff with swagger as well— 

And smacked his head on the floor.

In the next second, Draco’s face obscured the dirty ceiling and Lawrence’s gleeful face. “Merlin, what the hell were you trying to do?” Draco slipped his palm underneath Harry’s head, checking for injuries. 

“I was just,” Harry said, now feeling as dazed as Lawrence had looked, with Draco cradling his face. “Leaning.”

“You leaned on a rolling chair, you idiot,” Draco said. He wound an arm around Harry’s waist and tugged him up in one go, letting Harry lean against him. “We’re going to get you looked at.”

“But,” Lawrence said, his previous mirth vanishing. “I thought we were getting drinks?”

“You're still welcome to get some drinks,” Draco said. “But I’m taking Potter to a healer.”

As they walked away, Harry’s painful head lolled and found itself in the crook of Draco’s neck. It smelled wonderful. He wondered if Draco smelled this nice everywhere. Harry caught one last sight of Lawrence’s face and laughed, though he couldn’t quite understand why.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Their resident healers all groaned in unison when Harry and Draco walked in. Draco bristled at them as he sat Harry down on a stool. “Show some respect for the wounded!” 

Costume Department Kate wandered over to them, “I figured you two would end up here so I thought I beat you to it.” She paused. “Bloody hell, what happened to our clothes?”

Draco looked down at his shredded dress and sighed sadly. “It did not survive.”

“She served her country well,” Harry ducked his head in mock mourning.

“Indeed!” Draco waved his arms dramatically. “The devotion! The sacrifice we saw today!” Harry was laughing. Draco grinned. “ A moment of silence to—”

“—God, shut up!” Kate glared at them both. She pointed her wand at them and their clothes turned into standard Auror training clothes, black fitted T-shirts with the Auror crest on the chest and grey joggers. Their borrowed clothes now in her arms as she walked away, muttering insults about Aurors.

Harry thought they weren’t the worst Aurors. Cho regularly got blood on her clothes. He turned to Draco so they could share a mutual eye-rolling at Kate, and paused when he saw Draco’s expression.

Draco had quieted down in the worst possible way. His face shuttered and lips pinched, as though he needed to physically stop them from opening. Which given how much he talked and how much he liked talking—it might as well be true. And even though Harry had seen this awful expression before, it still made his stomach drop. 

Harry desperately wanted to reassure Draco that he wasn’t being annoying, and that he didn’t need to stop talking. Draco liked to play up his injuries and illnesses like he did in school, only now it was more just for the fun of it, rather than the attention. The first time Harry noticed it was also after a mission. Draco had gotten a minor gash, and he was somehow moaning, complaining, and groaning all at the same time that got Harry shaking his head fondly. Another Auror had come in, and Draco had snapped out of it, ducking his head down so quickly Harry thought he had dreamt the whole thing. That was when Harry realized Draco was scared of being made fun of, and that he really did enjoy being dramatic just for the sake of it, but he only felt comfortable enough doing it in front of Harry. 

The worse thing was, people were sometimes (just sometimes!) annoyed by Draco’s antics, even though everyone got annoyed at everyone all the time, as it was bound to happen when you were stuck together for the majority of the week. Harry got annoyed at Ron, and Ron at Harry, and most people actually annoyed Harry more often than not. Cho looked pleasant, but secretly wanted to punch everyone (Harry knew. He accidentally saw her notes during a meeting and been scared of her ever since). That was just how ... humans worked. But Draco took those remarks to heart, and he always got subdued and rigid for quite a while, or until Harry managed to distract him out of it. Harry hated seeing him like that—this.

The healers deemed Harry okay physically; mentally: “Jury's still out,” was the answer, as it had been for the last five years. Normally Harry would try and fight it a bit, but today he just ushered a silent Draco out and back to their desks.

“Sorry about the dress,” Harry said lamely. “You really rocked it. At least she forgot the shoes?”

Draco looked down and saw that he was indeed still wearing the blue kitten heels. Draco had expressed, so enthusiastically, to Harry during undercover that he liked how they made his ankles look. Without a word, Draco kicked them off and opened up a file, hiding his face behind it and ignored any more attempts at conversation from Harry.

Before clocking out that day, Harry went and changed the wallpaper in Costume Department Kate’s office to a nauseating green that wouldn't disappear for at least a week.

  
  


* * *

Draco was still quiet the next day. He was drinking his “I’m feeling _fine_!” tea. (What was in it, Harry would never know. He wasn’t allowed to ask.) The real kicker came when Draco left for the kitchen and didn’t return for ten minutes, when Harry went looking, he found Draco making _toast_. 

“What is going on?” Harry asked.

“I wanted toast,” Draco said. His toast came out charred around the edges. “I made it myself.”

“I see,” Harry said, feeling strangely proud. Draco was useless in the kitchen, and his idea of “cooking” was usually “bully Harry into making food for him.” So even though Harry felt a little proud at Draco navigating the kitchen without setting anything on fire, the fact that he tried to do it himself rather than bother Harry meant he was still caught up on what Kate said yesterday.

“You okay?” Harry asked.

Draco grunted.

“You better be,” Harry said. “You remember what’s happening next month, right?”

For a moment, Draco frowned at him all confused, cheeks round from stuffing toast into his mouth, looking _far_ too cute. 

Then he groaned, “Halloween’s coming up.”

“That’s right!” Harry grinned. “The heist! I'm going to win this year.”

“Potter, you’ve never won,” Draco said, exasperated. “Weasley wins most of this stupid thing because he somehow ropes Granger into it, probably with mediocre sex. At least _I’ve_ won before.”

Harry wagged his fingers and said “Nh-uh-uh!”, thinking acting silly might help cheer Draco up. But from the look on Draco’s face, he probably thought all the losing from previous years had finally scrambled Harry’s brain. “This year, I have a secret weapon.”

“Oh, this will be good,” Draco drawled. “Pray tell.”

Harry cupped Draco’s face and stared meaningfully into his eyes. “You.”

Draco punched him. 

Harry doubled over. “What the fuck!” 

“Sorry!” Draco said, panicked then frustrated. His face was bright red. “What the hell was that?! You looked like you were going to kill me!”

“I was looking at you,” Harry managed to wheeze. “Meaningfully.”

“You need to understand English better,” Draco snapped. “What do you mean, me?”

“This year I thought we could team up.” Harry bent backward, hands on his hips. “Oof, that hurts.”

“You deserved one sorry and you got it,” Draco said. 

“We can split the vacation days that we win,” Harry said, finally finding enough strength to straighten to a more dignified position. “What do you say?”

“I don’t want to team up,” Draco said. “These heists are stupid.”

“You only think they’re stupid because you don’t win them,” Harry said. “But you still play every year. At least this time, if we team up we might have a chance at beating Ron and Hermione. Anthony and Cho will probably be on their own again.”

“No,” Draco said. “I don’t team up.”

“I just want to win once!” Harry pleaded. “You know how hard Halloween is for me. It’d be nice to have _some_ good memories of this day.”

Draco gaped at him. “You sticky little gummy worm!” He was speechless (nonsensical insults were the most speechless you could get from Draco Malfoy). “You did not just use that to get me on board.”

“I’m sure my dad, god-dad, and wolf-dad would all be proud of me.”

Draco glared and started walking around, fiddling with everything. Harry knew that usually meant he was going to agree, but needed to keep up appearances by pretending to think it over. 

“On one condition,” Draco said, when he finally wandered back to Harry.

“Yes?” 

“You are helping _me_ ,” Draco said. “I do the planning. You follow my plan.”

“What, I don’t get a say in the plan?”

“You get five vetoes.”

“Deal.” Honestly, Harry was surprised he got vetoes at all, better take it now. “I’ll listen to everything you say, _sir_.”

Draco glared at him, face pinking for some reason again. “Well!” he said. “I, er.”

“What?” 

“Don’t call me that,” Draco snapped. 

“Bloody hell, fine.” Harry really didn’t know what the big deal was. But Draco was fake coughing and looked wrong-footed.

“Right,” Draco said. “Now for the first step of my plan.”

“You _already_ have one?”

“I always have at least three plans and ten insults brewing in my head, Potter,” Draco said snottily, and Harry couldn’t help but grin. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


As it turned out, Draco’s first step was Hermione.

As soon as Draco locked her office, Harry knew it wasn’t going to be nice and easy like his usual visits. Hermione sat back, challenge in her eyes as she watched them take a stand in front of her desk. She did not get up to greet them.

“I have a request to make,” Draco said.

“Everyone does,” Hermione said.

“You are not to join this year's heist.”

Hermione shrugged. “I never do.”

“Cut the crap, Granger, we all know you help your husband every year.”

“Ron is more than capable of winning this silly thing himself.”

“Perhaps, but is he able to win while also humiliating the rest of the Aurors? To shut down every elevator and Floo at the same time, just after Weasley got off? To coordinate mandatory health inspections at the exact moment we are about to lay our hands on the price? _To break out every child in Ministry daycare and let them wreak havoc in DMLE?_ The plan might be Weasley, but the execution is all _you_.”

Hermione inclined her head. “Halloween is always a busy time of the year, the system overwhelmed, nothing surprising.”

“Listen, you bint — ”

“Speaking of bints,” Hermione cut off. “Remember the time your aunt tortured me?”

Draco glared. “Ugh, fine, but you can’t use that on me for the rest of the year.”

“That's fine,” Hermione said lightly. “I have about a dozen more of those. Ask me nicely.”

“Please stay out of the heist this year,” Draco said nicely. “Potter will do your bidding for a week.”

“Hey!”

“Are you using your veto?”

“Er, no.”

Draco hummed, smugly. 

“I never join,” Hermione insisted.

Draco slammed his hands on the table with such force that the noise made Harry jump three feet into the air while Hermione's eyes didn't even flinch. “All right, Granger, you want to go?”

“That’s not nicely,” Hermione said.

“You said ask nicely. I’m not asking now, I’m blackmailing.”

Hermione’s lips thinned. “I will start telling people about your you-know-what on you-know-who.” Both their eyes flickered to Harry, and Draco’s face was darkening again.

Harry was too shocked to care. “What! You-Know-Who?”

“Not You-Know-Who, you know, it’s you-know-who,” Hermione said.

“Who?” Harry said.

“Doesn’t matter who or what!” Draco said loudly. “Granger, you promised me that. You can’t use it here.”

“Goodness, fine,” Hermione looked like she was regretting her strong moral code.

Draco grinned and continued before she could say anything. “I've got dirt too.”

Hermione turned her face away mockingly. “I don’t have dirt. That’s how I survived here.”

“Is it now?” Draco clasped his hands. “I know you once bought a brand of crackers that wasn't 100 percent fair trade," Draco sneered. “It was only _95_ percent."

“Hermione!" Harry gasped, aghast.

This time, Hermione jumped from her seat. “What? How did you—”

“Because once my owl came back from you with crumbs that are the same brand as the crackers Potter uses. I know, I had the medical examiner analyze it."

“That’s wasting government resources!” Hermione accused.

“Why the hell were you analyzing people's crumbs for?" Harry said.

“ _95 percent_ ,” Draco stressed.

“It was on sale!" Hermione pleaded. “It was so cheap!"

“And I know you finish off your friends’ food if they can't finish it, even if it has meat in it," Draco added.

“I wasn't going to let the food go to waste just because I'm vegan!" Hermione said. “You know what? I won't help Ron this year. Fuck off."

“Always a pleasure." Draco turned with the most shit-eating grin that ever shit-eatened. He tapped Harry’s cheek and headed to the door.

Although as soon as the door shut behind them, Draco’s facade crumbled and he hissed, “Oh my god, my palms hurt so much, can you heal them?"

“Why do you insist on slamming stuff when you know you have extremely delicate skin?" Harry said, casting on Draco’s palms. And as he held Draco’s hands in his, Harry couldn’t help but notice how soft they were and how they smelled the same as Draco’s neck and hair, that fresh and warm patchouli smell. He started daydreaming about snatching the cream from Cho's desk and lied about it being his and oh would Draco like some? It still looks a little red oh no it must sting let me rub it on for you, well, Harry didn't know why he started thinking this but he just knew he didn’t want to let go of Draco’s hands— 

The door behind them opened and Draco snatched his hands back. Harry looked up at him, dazed, not really knowing what just happened. His body felt a little tight. Hermione poked her head out and called Harry back into her office, something about babysitting. Draco left hastily. 

Harry sat down in the guest chair, blinking. Hermione was looking at him with a pained expression. 

“I know I shouldn’t tell you this,” she said.

“Huh?” Harry said, only half paying attention. 

“A lot of people wouldn't like me telling you this, because there are probably seven different betting pools going on. But none of us are getting any younger and I think you should really face the music,” Hermione said.

“What?” Harry said. Now he had moved on from Draco’s lovely smell to why he was blushing so much today. It was kind of cute. Cute enough that Harry couldn’t stop thinking about it. Like when Teddy said Harry was fun for the first time; it just filled him up from the inside.

“Your crush on Draco,” Hermione said.

Draco’s name caught Harry’s attention. “What?” Harry said again.

Hermione sighed. “I know you’re extremely ... not in tune with these things, especially with boys. With girls, you usually know you have a crush. But when it’s a boy, you just, nothing! Even if you like them _more_.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Remember Cedric, Harry? You liked him so much, and Cho, but you didn’t notice you liked Cedric even though you paid attention to him more!”

“I did not have two crushes at the same time,” Harry said.

“You were fourteen, everyone had at least three crushes at once,” Hermione said with a pitying look.

“I do not ...” Harry started. “I don’t, have a, er, crush on Draco.”

“You’re right,” Hermione agreed. “You’re halfway in love with him. I was just easing you into the idea. I don’t want you to faint like when you realized you were bi.”

“I did not faint!” Harry said.

“Right, you just took a spontaneous nap in the middle of a Quidditch game,” Hermione amended. “My mistake.”

Harry ignored her. 

“Harry,” Hermione said warily.

Harry ignored her, because he was thinking about Draco, and realizing he had not gone a day without actively thinking about him in a very long time. He thought of today, after work, how he knew Draco would go buy a box of sticky cake because it was a Wednesday and there was this horror series on the wireless that he liked to listen to with sticky cake and ginger tea (like some weirdo, Harry thought fondly). That show was so creepy and every time he tried to tell Harry about it on Thursday morning, it freaked Harry out, but he still listened to Draco talk about it anyway. And how Harry would send a Patronus to Draco in the middle of the night asking if he wanted waffles because Harry had a buy-one-get-one-free coupon, and he never really felt like having waffles in the middle of the night but he has them anyway because it was a good excuse to see Draco in the middle of the night when Harry inexplicably wanted to see him. And as they paid for their waffles, the clerk would give Harry another coupon and Harry just knew it would be used to see Draco again.

“I don’t have a crush on Draco,” Harry said to Hermione. “It’s late. I should be going home.”

Hermione didn’t stop him, or maybe she did and Harry didn’t notice. He went back to the Auror’s Department in a haze, most people had left already. Draco, too, though he left a note on Harry’s desk to remind him not to tell people about their cahooting. Harry tucked the note into his pocket and left, stopping by the market on the way home, meaning to buy some frozen pasta. 

Then before Harry knew it, he was walking out of the market with a box of patchouli soap and none of the things he went in to buy.

“Well, fuck," Harry said to the box of soap, taunting him by smelling like Draco.

  
  


* * *

The next morning, Draco came in and started updating Harry about the new development of the horror show, and Harry sat there, listening with half of his mind focused on wondering if Draco’s cupid bow always looked so devastating or did Draco somehow made it look better since they last saw each other. 

“Potter, why aren’t you whimpering like a baby right now?” Draco said when he was halfway into the story. “Did you not understand who the lady was? Do I have to repeat myself?”

“Yeah, er,” Harry coughed. “You should, er, tell me again. Sorry, wandered off.”

Draco huffed, but started the story again with a different, but no less enthusiastic, cadence. Harry was really confused as to how people weren’t kissing Draco all over all the time. Everything about him looked made to be kissed. Harry’s chest felt tighter and tighter as time went on and he still wasn’t pressing his lips to Draco’s— 

“Good morning,” Lawrence said out of nowhere. 

“Ah, morning,” Draco said, turning his gaze away from Harry.

Another hard epiphany: Harry did actually have a reason, re: his urge to punch Lawrence. And now that urge, while still there and more prominent than ever, made him uncomfortable. He had no right to stop people from liking Draco just because he liked Draco himself. So Harry just sat there, sulking as he listened to Lawrence blatantly flirt with Draco (and how had Harry not realized he was flirting? That Lawrence probably wasn’t a boastful and swanky person to everyone, but only did it to impress Draco? Oh for the love of—) 

Then Lawrence was pushing his hair back and letting it fall back into his eyes, lush and full, looking at Draco all the while. Harry glared. He had hair, too.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, trying to mimic Lawrence. 

“What are you doing, Potter?” Draco said. Harry didn’t know when Draco had looked back to him. “Your hair is ... ah, I don’t know how to put it so I won’t dent your poor feelings.”

Lawrence laughed. Harry glowered at the both of them and opened a new file. Paperwork was more bearable than what was going on in front of him.

When Lawrence, thank Merlin, finally remembered he was also an Auror and he should be putting criminals away instead of using whatever tips he got from the sex workers in the holding cell to get into Draco’s pants, Harry asked the question he now realized had been bothering him all along but didn’t know what it was until now:

“So, do you, um, find Lawrence, or, blokes like him, attractive?”

Draco was looking at him weirdly. 

“Why do you care?”

Harry, bless him, just found out about his feelings and was a bit out of practice with lying about his feelings. But thought, as an adult and an accomplished Auror, he should be fine hiding the fact he was fishing for information about what kind of men his object of affection liked. So he valiantly blushed all the way to the tips of his ears and stuttered out one, “Er, just, no reason. Curious. Making small talks.”

“You’re odd today,” Draco said. “But men like Lawrence? Not my type. I like darker, earnest and—don’t make fun of me for this last bit, I’ve tried to rid myself of this abnormal attraction, to no avail—I like kind men, with a good hearts.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “I don’t know about Lawrence’s, er, heart.”

“He’s a good kid,” Draco said. 

That didn’t sound like something you’d say if you were interested in them romantically. Harry decided to try his luck. “Who was your last boyfriend?”

“Blaise,” Draco said simply.

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? I thought he moved to Italy years ago?”

“It was during our makeup year in Hogwarts.”

“That’s a long time ago,” Harry said. “No one since...?”

“Just dates, here and there,” Draco said with a business-like tone. “Although, to be honest, Blaise and I weren’t that serious too, even if we were together for the whole year.”

“Oh, then why did you stay together that long then?”

Draco grinned, all teeth. “He could make his pecs pop.”

Harry did not get it.

“And that was enough to stay with him for a whole year?”

“Excuse me, have you _seen_ his body?” Draco said, incredulous. “Because you wouldn’t be asking me this if you have.”

Harry did not feel like asking more questions when Draco was starting to look wistful, likely daydreaming about Blaise’s rock hard body and his bouncy pecs. That night, Harry spent long hours in front of the mirror trying to make his pecs jump, and came to the conclusion that there just wasn’t a muscle called pecs, it was all just a lie to create an unreachable male standard! Harry was really channeling his inner Hermione to make himself feel better. He considered accusing Blaise of using magic, but Harry was afraid Draco would drag him into the Pensieve Room and show him memories of Blaise pecs just popping all over the place. Harry wouldn’t put it past Draco, after the time he went through the grueling process of applying access for a Pensieve just to prove to Harry that they were supposed to _meet at 5, not 5:30!_

Harry caught the fond smile on his face in the mirror and threw his body onto the bed, unpoppable pecs and all.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The first plan Draco proposed for the heist was to simply use Harry’s “I killed Voldemort for all of you” status and guilt people into letting them win. Which finally prompted Harry to use one of his vetoes. But after Draco proposed his fifth ridiculous plan, that seemed to be aimed at embarrassing Harry instead of winning, did Harry belatedly realize these were all just to get Harry to use up his vetoes.

“You are evil,” Harry said.

“I’m not evil,” Draco retorted. “I’m just a Slytherin.”

But when Draco finally proposed his plan, there was no veto needed. 

Pansy Parkinson was the person people go to to get things done. Despite working in the Ministry for years, she never seemed to be promoted beyond her secretarial position, though to this day, no one knew who she was secretary for. It was obvious she chose to remain as a secretary. It made it easy for her to control everything. 

Although Draco could bully people with just his eyebrows, it was universal knowledge that Parkinson was the resident bully. Her go-to threat was, “Do you really want to piss me off? Me, who tried to give Harry Potter up to Voldemort?” Even though Harry disliked his name being used, with Parkinson, Harry wished her all the best. 

“No need to be scared of her,” Draco said when they stopped outside of her office.

“I’m not!” Harry insisted, but he didn’t stop at trying to cover up his worst physical attributes, while wondering why he bothered. Parkinson would just find new ones anyway. Easy for Draco to say, _don't be scared of her_. Even if he and Parkinson weren’t best friends, there wouldn’t be any bad thing about his looks to point out anyway.

“Heist?” Parkinson said after she insulted Harry’s hair, boots, and dry skin. “Draco, I think we both know I’m too cool for that.”

“I have pictures of that bloke you think it’s hot, fresh out of the gym,” Draco said.

“Hmmm,” Parkinson tapped her lips. “Sweaty?”

“Drinking water and lifting his shirt,” Draco said.

“Deal,” Parkinson said.

“Are you talking about Brad?” Harry said.

“Why would I know his name?” Parkinson looked at him like he was dim. Which wasn’t that different from how she usually looked at him.

“Why do you have pictures of Brad?” Harry asked Draco, trying to not let his distress show.

Draco shrugged and Parkinson’s eyebrows shot up, looking at Harry in surprise. Harry flushed and glanced away.

“To be honest, she’s all we really need,” Draco admitted after leaving Parkinson’s office. “She alone can create enough chaos to distract everyone, then you just use your Cloak and get our prize.” Then Draco noticed Harry’s uncomfortable look and rolled his eyes. “Your Cloak is not magic, Potter, so it’s not against the rules. Untwist. Is that why you never use it?”

“Er, no,” Harry said. “It just seems unfair.”

Draco buried his face into his hands. “Merlin’s bollocks.”

“But I don’t mind this time!” Harry hurried on to say. 

“You don’t have any vetoes left anyway,” Draco said as he resurfaced. He was blushing again. Had he always blushed this much? And how had Harry never noticed how appealing it was? Harry had noticed that whenever Draco blushed, Harry felt hot as well. But he always thought it was like laughing when seeing someone else laughed, or sneezing, sympathy pains. Now he was painfully aware of his own heated cheeks. 

“Of course I’ll use it,” Harry replied. “If it helps you win.”

Draco’s face softened. “Us.”

Harry had never really cared about winning the heist. He just liked to see everyone act so young and carefree over something so silly. But Draco always aimed to win, and Harry wanted to see his face when he did. 

“Right,” Harry grinned. “Us.”

  
  


* * *

Halloween came soon enough. Harry could see the scheming looks on people’s faces just waiting for the night shift to begin. Ten minutes until it was due to start, Hermione came by and whispered something into Ron’s ear, and all the color drained from his face. Draco and Harry looked on as whatever Ron planned came crashing down around him, snickering together behind their hands. 

Though Harry was content to gloat after the whole thing was done, Draco'd never had self-control. 

“Leaving for the day, Granger?” Draco called out. 

She threw him a dirty look. 

“So sorry you couldn’t ‘watch from the sideline’ today.”

“Too bad no one sees you as that big of a threat to be banned from the game too,” Hermione bit out.

“Correction, no one sees me as crazy enough to be banned from the game," Draco retorted. “I never set a teacher on fire when I was 11."

Hermione sputtered. “How—when—Harry!"

Harry raised his hands in surrender. “I'm sorry! You know how he is! He pulled it out of me!"

“I did not!" Draco shouted. “You gave that up yourself! I didn't even ask!"

From across the office, Ron said, “You need to stop giving up all of our secrets to Malfoy, mate."

Harry ducked his head and groaned.

“Oh no,” Ron said suddenly, looking from Hermione to Draco. “Is this a fake fight? Are you two secretly teaming up? Because that’s not fair. Between Hermione’s smarts and Malfoy’s oily cunning the two of you will become Joint Minister for Magic by the end of the night."

“Why, yes, Weasley, haven't you noticed?” Draco drawled. “The current Minister is actually Granger and I. Each time he is needed we just hook our arms together and spin until we morph into one man."

“I hate you."

“Tell me this then, have you ever seen me, Granger and the minister at the same time?"

“Fuck off!"

Hermione sighed. “No, Ron, I'm not teaming up with Malfoy. I have a petition I need drafted by tomorrow.”

After she left, Ron turned to Draco and glared. “I don’t know what you did, but so help me—”

“Oh, are you now just realizing that without your wife you can’t pull anything off?” Draco smirked. “Heist,” his eyes flickered to Ron’s crotch, “or otherwise?”

Ron flicked a rubber band at Draco and hit him dead on the cheek. Draco rubbed the spot. It was reddening already.

“Oh, no,” Harry whispered. “Delicate skin.” Ron shouldn't have gone for Draco’s skin, as the room was filled with an uncharacteristic Malfoy-less silence.

Ron seemed to realize his error. He put up his hands. “I just—” 

Right on cue, Draco started screaming. 

“Draco! Calm down!” Harry valiantly tried to protect his friend. 

Draco whirled around and hissed at Harry. “I AM CALM!” He turned back to Ron. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH TIME, EFFORT, MONEY, AND TEARS I SPEND ON PERFECTING MY SKIN!” Draco said (calmly.) ”YOU OBVIOUSLY DON’T OR YOU WOULDN'T HAVE DISGRACED YOURSELF BY BLEMISHING IT!”

“He didn't blemish it,” a Junior-Auror nearby said, not seeing Harry’s rapidly shaking head. “It's only a little red.”

Draco rounded on him. “Stay out of this, Jenson, or I _will_ tell Auror Chang you're the one that steals her tart every Friday.”

Jenson squeaked and ran away, presumably toward those unsuspecting tarts. Harry rushed forward to grab Draco by the waist and haul him away. Draco was sobbing fake tears by the time Harry sat him back at their desks. Harry rolled his eyes. Draco’s tears only came out for dramatic effects or when he was under Voldemort’s kill-order level stress. Harry had seen the former many times now.

“I’m ruined!” Draco insisted. 

“No, you’re not,” Harry said.

“It’s going to leave a spot! I’ll look like a bowl of oatmeal!” Draco said with anguish.

Harry gently tilted Draco’s face so he could look at the red spot. But it was quickly hidden by the sudden flush that overcame Draco’s face. Harry dropped his hands.

“Well, you can’t see it anymore,” Harry mumbled.

Draco nodded. His fingers touching where Harry’s hand was.

“The heist is about to start,” Harry said. “I’m going to win you this thing.”

Draco stood. Huffed. Still touching his face tenderly. “I knew you had a big head, Potter. If it grows any larger there would soon be small moons orbiting around it.”

Harry laughed. “Because I’m on _your_ team.”

Draco smiled, small and real. “Okay.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Everyone!” Ron said. “It’s time!”

All the Junior-Aurors filed in like geese eager for bread (Harry’s words) or blood (Draco’s). They did not participate actively, but it was not unusual to be roped into the chaos. Other workers or civilians looked toward Ron in the middle of the room.

“We need an object for us to steal.” Ron raised a wastebasket. “Who wants to draw?”

“Oh, me, me!” one woman brought in for grand larceny said eagerly. Ron swooped to her and she carefully picked out a piece of paper. Unfolding it, she read, “Harry!”

“Harry will be our donor this year!” Ron said. Everyone clapped and Harry waved awkwardly. “Harry, what’s the most valuable thing you have here?”

Harry looked through his desk. A drawing of him that Teddy gave him. A ribbon from Hermione and Ron’s wedding. A ticket stub for when he took Draco to see his very first film. But the most valuable thing had to be, “The picture of my parents,” Harry said.

Everyone let out a fond, “Aw!”

“Embarrassing,” Draco said, though his eyes were bright. “Weasley, you can’t have Potter give up something valuable. I’m sure there is nothing there he considers valuable that isn’t also disgustingly sentimental. Potter, choose something that won’t make us feel like monsters if it gets ruined during this.”

Harry picked up a book. “This boring book.”

Ron came over and took it. “You think _The Notebook_ is boring?” Draco snapped.

“Yes.”

Draco looked seconds away from strangling Harry, teammate or not. Ron hurriedly continued, letting the book float a little way above them so people could see. “Okay! Harry’s book will be locked in Room 437, as usual, no magic, no Weasley products. Whoever possesses it by midnight wins— ”

Suddenly, the door burst open and at least fifty people swarmed the office, all screaming and heading towards Harry. Harry jumped back but it was too late, the crowd had found him.

“What’s going on?” Harry shouted. 

“Someone told us you were finally having an autograph signing!” one of them shouted right in Harry’s face. 

“What?” Harry sputtered. It was getting too hard to breathe with so many people pushing against him, and he looked around wildly for escape— 

“EVERYONE!” Draco shouted; he had somehow ended up behind Harry, standing on top of a desk. “GET OUT! BEFORE I ARREST YOU ALL!”

“The book!” Anthony was shouting. “Is the book still there—”

“The book is fine!” Ron yelled back. “Calm the fuck down! MALFOY! Is Harry okay?”

Draco jumped down next to Harry, a hand on Harry’s bicep, gripping it tight enough to let him know he was there. “Okay, Potter?”

“Er,” Harry said. His whole arm had gone numb from Draco’s hand. “Yeah, uh, I’m okay.”

Draco’s hand left Harry. Harry’s muscle flexed, like it had been shocked.

After the room cleared. Ron resumed, “Nate, will you do the honor of locking this book up.” The Junior-Auror squeaked in delight at being able to include. As he ran off, Ron made a bee-line to Harry.

“Harry,” Ron’s tone was desperate. “Please be on my team. Please, please please—”

“Potter is already on my team,” Draco said coldly.

But Harry was having trouble looking at Ron. He never really could refuse Ron or Hermione. “Yeah. Sorry, Ron.”

“Mate,” Ron said, ducking his head to catch Harry’s eyes. Harry twisted his face this way and that to avoid those baby blues, but eventually he got caught anyway.

“Mate,” Ron pleaded. “You know that ... Hermione and I are trying, right?”

“Oh, dear lord,” Draco snapped. “Spare us the sob story.”

Ron ignored him. “But Hermione is always so busy and we barely have any time together. I was planning on giving her the vacation days from this. You want nieces and nephews, don’t you?”

Oh. Oh, that was low. But there were no filters and limits on this day. And before Harry knew it, he was nodding already.

“I see,” Draco said.

“Ha!” Ron shouted, pumping his hand in the air. “Knew it. Thank Merlin.”

“I see,” Draco said again.

“Draco—” Harry started, but Draco was already walking away.

Ron grabbed Harry and steered him towards his desk. Harry twisted around to look for Draco, but he was nowhere to be found.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Harry nodded as he listened to Ron’s plan, biting his nails.

“It’s like a chess game, yes?” Harry said, just to say something. Just to pretend his chest and stomach and throat weren’t burning up, like something was lodged in them, something awful and heavy. 

Ron paced. “It’s nothing like a chess game! In chess, every piece has its purpose, its rules. Nothing goes out of line. This? This is no man's land. Malfoy is barbaric when he wants to win. Cho doesn’t give a shit about winning but she uses this chance to torture us all. Remember the traps she did two years back? It didn’t even help her get anything, she just wanted to see us suffer! And I’m pretty sure Robards already got our death reports all written up. No, this isn’t chess. This is Umbridge bitten by rabid merpeople while high on Amortentia, and we're all in love with the glory of winning.”

“I thought it was for the vacation days,” Harry said.

Ron hissed savagely. “It’s the glory!”

“Sure,” Harry said.

Ron deflated. Frowned. “Are you okay? I know you never really cared about winning, but you’re usually more enthusiastic than this.”

“I’m fine,” Harry said. He couldn’t get Draco’s face as he walked away out of his head. Harry had suggested they win together this year. He had asked Draco to join because Draco was sad about being told to shut up by Costume Department Kate and Harry wanted to let him know he was appreciated. That his mind and plans and determination was what was going to help them win, and Harry had just cast Draco away. 

He dropped his forehead to his knees and sighed. Maybe he should just go find Draco. He wanted to do this with Draco, Harry really did. He loved solving things and exchanging ideas and taking down obstacles with Draco. But Ron and Hermione wanted the vacation days.

“Harry?” Ron said, sounding confused and worried.

“Nothing,” Harry said again. “Let’s just go.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


They “accidentally” set off the glitter bomb too early which resulted in Robards yelling at them and Ron promising he would personally call Facility Management and take care of this. Then Margaret, whom Ron bribed with twenty cat porcelain figurines, snuck the book out, disguised as trash, away during cleanup.

“I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things,” Ron said. “You go down to get the book.”

“Okay,” Harry said. Ron gave him a look at his unenthusiastic tone.

As Harry wandered down to where Margaret hid the book, in supply room B, he looked for Draco and couldn’t find him anywhere. Without him, all these tricks seemed dull. Who were they tricking if the person who took it seriously wasn’t around? Even Parkinson never showed. This was only fun if people wanted to participate in it.

But when Harry got to supply room B, he was greeted with Draco lounging against a pile of brooms. 

“Draco,” Harry breathed. “How—?”

“I put a hearing bug in your hair,” Draco said. 

Harry’s hands went to his tangled hair and tugged, picking the small device out. “Oh, so that’s why people brush their hair!” Harry joked, hoping Draco would mock it like he usually did. But Draco just looked at his nails. 

“What happened to Cho and Anthony?” Harry asked.

“Both their plans were to seduce the other, and they both succeeded,” Draco said. “From what I know, they are now either getting married, or fucking.”

Then he didn’t say anything else. Very un-Draco like behavior, not saying something. Harry shuffled his feet.

“Aren’t you going to ...” Harry asked.

“I don’t really feel like looking for it,” Draco said. “I’ll just take it from you when you get it.”

“And you think you’ll just be able to ‘take it’ from me?”

“Of course.”

Harry sighed. He walked to Draco and Draco lowered his hand. “I’m really sorry, Draco.” 

“No need, Potter,” Draco replied coolly. “Why did you think I planted a bug on you? It occurred to me once we got Granger out of the way, Weasley no doubt would want another teammate. And of course he would want you, and of course you would accept it. I’d made contingency plans for when you undoubtedly chose him, when he asked.”

If Harry could, he would be digging a hole and burying himself alive now. 

“Though I do confess,” Draco said. Harry stepped closer, head bowed. “I confess,” Draco said quietly. “That I had hope ... you would choose me this time.”

“Draco,” Harry said. He made to hold Draco’s hands, but in the end was only brave enough to hold onto his fingertips.

“I know, this is just a silly game we all do,” Draco said. “But I was rather delighted at the idea of the two of us as a team, against the rest of them.”

“I was happy about it too,” Harry promised. “I _asked_ you, didn't I?”

Draco was looking at their hands. “I suppose so.” He looked up—and, Harry saw with a violent jolt, his eyes flickered to Harry’s mouth before meeting his eyes.

“Draco,” Harry whispered. He shuffled forward more.

Draco’s eyes flickered to Harry’s lips again. 

And Harry, although had only known about his feelings for no longer than a week, felt like he had thought about this for half his life. The tightness in his chest felt like it had been building for half his life. Draco was not moving away. His face was finally opening up once more.

Harry really could not have stopped himself from pressing his lips to Draco’s. And Draco let out a sound—what a sound ... it made the entirety of Harry’s mind shut down, like it wanted Harry to use every ounce of himself to kiss Draco. Draco melted against him; his hands cupping Harry’s jaw, trembling and light, like he was handling something gossamer.

Then, somewhere behind them, Ron shouted very loudly, “GOT IT! Great job, Harry! Sorry you had to kiss Malfoy!” before running out, like he thought Draco was going to give chase.

Harry gaped at the open door. He didn’t even notice anyone coming in and taking the book. He turned around to find Draco, with a palm over his mouth, looking at Harry with wide, horrified eyes.

“Oh, my god,” Draco said, muffled from his palm. He sounded odd. Harry had never heard him talk like this before. “You kissed me to distract me.”

Blankly, Harry stared. Then, “No!” Harry wanted to grab his hair. “Draco, no—”

“‘Sorry you had to kiss Malfoy’,” Draco repeated. His other hand came to cover his eyes. His voice broke. “Merlin, I hate this _stupid_ fucking _heist_.”

Draco made to leave. Harry tried to block him, just so he could explain. He would, once his throat stopped being so thick and painful. But Draco kicked over the brooms and buckets, making Harry stumble. When Harry rightened himself, he just caught the sight of Draco slipping out of the room.

  
  


* * *

“Where’s Auror Malfoy?” Harry demanded the first person he saw after getting back.

The handyman stumbled. “Who?”

“Ugh!” Harry stumped away to look for Ron and found him at his desk, knees pressing tightly against his drawer. 

“Hey!” Ron said happily. “We just need to guard this until midnight—”

Harry pushed Ron’s legs away and yanked it open, putting the dumb book in his pocket. “I need it.” 

Ron gaped. “What’s going on?”

Harry looked at him miserably. Ron scratched his head, sighed. 

“Do what you have to,” Ron said. “Even though I don’t know what that is. Just ... stop looking so upset.”

Harry was going to head back out when he spotted a Junior Auror who was supposed to be on patrol duty. Harry grabbed him. “Why aren’t you patrolling?”

“Auror Malfoy switched with me,” he said brightly. “That was so nice of him! He must know I hate patrolling on Halloween night. Though I kinda envy Mattie. If I wasn’t so scared of Muggle Halloween costumes I would totally patrol with Auror Malfoy. He’s so cool.”

“We all know that, Johnson!” Harry said. “He switched with you? What about the heist?”

Johnson looked surprised. “Oh, I just assumed he lost? He was all shaky and upset.”

Harry closed his eyes. “Okay. Thanks.”

Junior Auror Johnson and Mattie’s patrol route was somewhere near Covent Garden. It was packed with people and pumpkins and everyone was in costume. Mattie and Draco should both be in costume as well, and he didn’t know what they were. Harry stood in the crowd, sweaty and lost, thinking of risking a tracking spell even though he knew Draco hated that, having had one on him for three years after the war. He didn’t want to cause Draco any more grief. 

After hours of searching, Harry went back to the Auror Department. It was past midnight and most people went home already. The few who were left asked who won; Harry shrugged and didn’t answer, pushing the door open.

Draco was at their desks, working on a report.

Harry knew Draco heard him. The whole office was empty and Harry’s footsteps were heavy and sluggish. Draco did not look up as he usually would have.

Sitting down across Draco, Harry asked, “What were you dressed as?”

“What do you mean,” Draco replied, still writing. There was ink on his hands.

“For the patrol.”

“I didn’t.”

“You love to dress up.”

“I didn’t today.”

Harry’s chest was tight.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. He needed to say that first.

“Did you know?” Draco asked.

“Know ... ?”

“That I have feelings for you,” Draco said simply.

Harry’s chest tightened impossibly further. His skin felt hot and tight, and there might be black spots forming in his vision, or was it just eyelashes poking into his eyes and making them water? Harry’s head was scrambled. All he could think of was Draco’s _I have feelings for you_ over and over. “What?”

“I am trying to gauge how angry I should be,” Draco said. But he didn’t sound angry; he sounded empty. 

“I’m really sorry.” This was probably a bad time to apologize, but it was all Harry could think of when he had made Draco look like that. 

Draco stopped writing and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. He was wheezing. Harry jumped up and skidded to a stop next to Draco and kneeled next to him. “Draco, oh my god, please, I—”

“You kissed me only for the stupid bet.” Harry couldn’t see Draco’s face, but his shortness of breath made it perfectly clear and Harry felt like the worst person in the world at that moment. “And kissing me was so humiliating and awful that Weasley had to apologize for putting you through—and I know why, I know people think me—” Draco gulped wetly, the corners of his mouth downturned and trembling violently “—annoying. That people think I talk too much; that people don’t want to pair with me in bets and games. I just always thought, I had, I had thought! I thought you weren't one of them.”  
  
“No one thinks that,” Harry said. No one thought Draco was more annoying than anyone else. If anything, Harry probably got complained about way more because of his short temper. Junior Aurors were certainly more scared of Harry than Draco. “And _I_ don’t think that at all. I _didn’t_ kiss you to distract you. And people don't choose you to be on their team because they know I want you. And no one minds listening to you talk! Least of all me! I don't even want to go on stakeouts if I'm not paired with you.”  
  
Draco didn't seem to believe him. Harry could hear Draco swallowing loudly, trying to hold back.  
  
“So stupid,” Draco said. “I should have known without my family's influence no one would like me.”  
  
Harry’s throat hurt from how much it was constricting, thinking about 11-year-old Draco, tiny and overconfident, wanting a friend.  
  
“Don't say that. ” Harry was miserable. “You’re just upset, you know full well people like you.” 

Draco finally moved his hands away. He didn’t acknowledge Harry, just calmly took out a handkerchief and wiped his puffy eyes and wet nose with it. “You always had endless patience for my ... shenanigans, as you once so eloquently called it, although I can't deny it's a fitting word for it. While you are usually short with other people's chatter, you always let me go on, and on ... I supposed I had built a castle in the air when I thought it meant you thought of me as special."  
  
“I _do_ ," Harry said. He thought Draco was the most wonderful person. “I do think you're special. I love talking to you. All the things you said were everything that endeared you to me. I miss you all the time. We get waffles because I miss you. I don’t even like waffles.”

Draco turned to look at him. His eyes were guarded. “I don’t like waffles either. They’re too dry.”

“And you still say yes to my late-night waffle offers,” Harry said gently.

“I miss you, too.”

Harry took the handkerchief from Draco and folded it, dabbing Draco’s face with the dry side, squeezing Draco’s nose to clean it (which got a surprised squawk from a flailing Draco). Harry put the handkerchief on the desk and returned his hands to Draco’s face. 

Draco’s eyes were bright again already. Harry could tell he was still trying to keep them in. 

“I really didn’t kiss you for the heist,” Harry said. 

“So you said,” Draco replied. “If you didn’t, then why? Ha-ha, is it because you like me back?”

That certainly made Harry’s job easier. “Yeah.”

Draco’s fingers dug into Harry’s arms. “Potter, I swear to Merlin, if you’re just saying this because you feel guilty, I will end you.”

Harry smiled. “No, you won’t.”

“I won’t,” Draco agreed. “But I will unleash more fans onto you.”

Harry stared.

Then, “You twat,” Harry laughed, full and loud. “Oh my god, that was _you_? Why?”

“To get the book,” Draco sighed. “I wanted to win, and I suspect Weasley might try to convince you.”

“But ... you planted the bug on me later.”

“I couldn’t just give up right after getting the book. Weasley would have suspected something was wrong,” Draco said lightly. “Of course, I gave up after another blow to my self-esteem. There is only so much I can take.”

Harry dropped his forehead to Draco’s shoulder. “I really do like you.”

Draco’s arms went around Harry’s neck and hugged him close. “This seems out of nowhere.”

“I thought you liked Lawrence,” Harry said. “And I hated the sight of him. I just didn’t realize I was jealous until a lot later.”

“I don't like Lawrence.” Draco sounded exasperated. “I, well, I see myself in him. Myself from before the war. He's arrogant and snotty and sometimes he says stuff that chills me. He's a lot younger than us, I just wanted to make sure ... he doesn't end up like me.”

Harry’s heart swelled at that. Draco was trying to help someone. “He would be lucky to end up like you.” Harry pulled back to look at Draco. 

Draco’s cheeks pinked. He looked pleased.

“ _I_ like you,” Harry said again. “I just hadn’t noticed. I really like you. A lot.”

Draco shifted and turned his head away. The pink was slowly spreading. “All right, I get it. Stop saying it.”

“Are you embarrassed?”

“No.” Draco looked very embarrassed. 

“I could talk to you for hours, or just listen to you,” Harry said. “And you smell really nice. You make the boring parts of this job fun. I wish they would let us have permanent partners so I could work every case with you. And you smell nice, have I said that one before?”

“You did,” Draco said wildly. “You don’t have to keep—”

Harry pressed a kiss to Draco’s neck. Draco shivered, full-body. Harry had to remember that. He felt very saccharine at the moment.

“I really like you, Draco,” Harry mumbled into the patchouli-scented skin. “I really, really, really like you.”

“God.” Draco shivered again, and kissed Harry. Just a press of lips before pulling back, like any more would ruin him. Harry kissed him too. The same way, a press then back. They looked at each other. Harry cradling Draco in his arms. Draco hugging Harry in his. One more kiss. Two. Three kisses. Harry cocked his head and caught Draco’s bottom lip. Then he remembered Draco’s shivers and missed it, so he kissed Draco’s neck. Draco’s head fell back with a gasp, Adam’s apple bobbing. 

For long minutes that was all they did, finding places that they had wanted for so long to kiss, and finally kissing them. Draco was partial to Harry’s nose. Harry found that Draco’s cupid’s bow was very nice indeed. Draco spent some time on Harry’s earlobe when he discovered it made Harry moan. Harry found a freckle on Draco’s jaw and hadn’t gone two seconds without kissing it since. 

Eventually they were very red and probably a little more in love then they were when they woke up that day. It was also very late. 

“Want to get waffles?” Harry asked against Draco’s mouth. Draco smiled.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“It was a fake?” Ron yelped.

Harry handed him the book—the one Ron had stolen from Room 437. “Open it.”

Ron opened it. The book inside was not _The Notebook_ , it was _How to Cope With Being a Loser by Draco Malfoy_ , and on every page was just pictures of Ron.

“That slimy bastard,” Ron said, awed. “So he won.”

“I heard that,” Draco said, sliding into the seat next to Harry. “But since I am such a gracious winner, you can have the vacation days to have mediocre heterosexual sex and make babies,” Draco said. He turned to Harry and gave him a kiss. “Hello.”

“Hey,” Harry smiled into the kiss, pulled back, and kissed him again. He saw no reason why he should stop at one.

Ron stared. “I think I’m missing something here. I didn’t even know you were interested in the ferret.” 

Draco hummed. “Do you really want to know?”

Ron gave Draco an unnerved look, then to Harry. “Did the two of you have sex?”

“Maybe,” Harry said. “I’ll just say this—I finally got my confirmation, Draco _does_ smell that nice _everywhere_.”

Ron made a disgusted noise and threw the fake book at them. Harry and Draco ducked under the table together, clenching at each other and laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> ***
> 
> This work is part of "Lights, Camera, Drarry" (LCDrarry), a film-, TV- and theatre-inspired Drarry fest.  
>  The creators will be revealed on [tumblr](http://lcdrarry.tumblr.com) and [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/LCDrarry2020/works) on 15 June 2020.
> 
> Please show your appreciation to the creator with kudos and comments :)


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